


The Moon is to the Sea as You are to Me

by thebestthingsincefriedchicken (Sapphire__Sky)



Category: NCT (Band), NCT 127 - Fandom, NCT U - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Marine Biology, Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Angst, BUT HE WOULD TOTALLY BE THE TYPE!!, Beach themed, Boys Kissing, Chaptered, Clean the Ocean, Confused Seo Youngho | Johnny, Crack Treated Seriously, Descriptions of gore, Discovery, Don't worry he doesn't, Dorks in Love, Educational, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Everyone Knows What They Are Doing, Everyone mentioned after Haechan only have small parts/ cameos, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Funny, Gay, Holy shit I've never been able to tag that before, I don't regret this, I love this universe okay, I think it applies? hehe, Johnny Likes Long Walks On The Beach, Johnny Seo is a Sweetheart, Johnny Will Wrestle a Shark to Save It, Johnny and Ten focus, Johnny has Morals, Johnny is a softie, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee Are Best Friends, Lol maybe not enemies but Ten certainly isn't fond of humanity, M/M, Marine life, Mark Lee starring as Mark Lee, Mark is a Good Intern, Mark is the Token Straight, Mermaids also have legs but in a way that makes sense, More tags to be added, Nobody knows what they are doing, Ocean, Okay back on topic, Or Does He??, Other, Plot, Possible Eventual Smut, Research, Sad, Save the planet, Scientist Taeil, Sea, Seo Youngho | Johnny is Whipped, Slow Burn, Sweet Seo Youngho | Johnny, Ten is Confused, Ten is a Softie, Trust Issues, Uhm, Violence, Wholesome, Y'all Taeil and Hyuck's dynamic I'm-, Yuta and Tae got that spICy flAvOr, actually all their dynamics for that matter, cursing, depends on how the story plays out, dun dun dun, good shit, google is a dumb bitch, i don't know what I am doing, its that mark can actually cook, kinda lol, listen, no, only in a few moments tho, please be patient with any diving gear/mechanics I mess up, reading the tags and realizing they're funnier than the jokes I made in the story, sjksjsj, soft, the most unrealistic thing in this fic isnt the mermaids, yeehaw, yes H2O I'm calling you out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-02-18 14:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire__Sky/pseuds/thebestthingsincefriedchicken
Summary: “Johnny,” Taeyong tries, softly. He’d moved to Johnny’s front, both hands cradling his face while Mark and Yuta held him as carefully as possible, checking him over for injuries while they restrain him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”Johnny tries to process that, dammit he does, but all he can think is scarlet and obsidian juxtaposed, smooth skin and diamond-like scales. His body buzzes, yet it is numb.He doesn't know.Fuck, he doesn’t know anything.---Johnny just wants to save the ocean, and all her magnificent creatures; as it turns out, there's a few more unidentified species than he bargained for.





	1. unbreakable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baridalive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baridalive/gifts).



> so this is going to be my first chaptered fic! :D thanks for clicking on it, and I really hope you enjoy reading. big thanks to abbey and lilly for betaing this for me, i don't know how I got so lucky as to find you two. you're gems and I adore you. 
> 
> the summary is a little lacking right now, but I have every intention of beefing it up when the story is farther along, and I have an excerpt that fits better with the theme and plot.
> 
> anyways, please let me know what you think in the comments section! i'm sorry for any misrepresentations of dive gear and/or the mechanics of such. google was only so helpful. please do point out anything that isn't quite right, so that I may expand my knowledge and hopefully fix the issue.
> 
> see you on the other side!

A tepid breeze buffets the water, murky green and capped with white.Unruly waves slosh against the side of _the Vision_ as she slows to a halt over interminable depths. Thirty miles offshore, the forty foot catamaran weighs anchor.

“Water visibility is pretty shit, Cap!” a distinctly accented voice calls from the starboard side. The reddish hair of its owner flops about in the wind as he skips into view. He’s not wrong; realistically whoever dives today won’t see more than fifteen to twenty feet from the cage.

Not the best conditions, but also not the worst Johnny had witnessed.

“I can see that, Yuta,” Taeyong responds from the stern, leaning over the railing for another peek before continuing, “and I told you not to call me that!”

A small smile quirks the seam of Johnny’s mouth when he chances a glance at Yuta, an entirely unapologetic smile on the other man’s face and a spring in his step.

“Aw, why so crappy, Cappy?” Yuta asks, skipping up alongside their reluctant leader, slinging an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders with a childish joy in his eyes. He’s about to get whalloped on the nose and he knows it, but it doesn’t deter his impish humor. Not much does.

Johnny focuses on the relaxingly monotonous task of slipping into his diving gear while Taeyong checks the new cage. He ignores the aggravated huff and slew of threats that carry over the deck. So long as no one is thrown over the side, he’s perfectly content to let them hash it out themselves.

Zip this, shrug on that, clasp here and there.

Something crashes into the water on the other side of the boat, and Johnny feels the contentedness wash from his system like fish oil out of new rug. Which is to say, some of it sticks around, but what’s left taunts him more than brings comfort.

“Guys, what was that?” Johnny asks, his voice a tad too kind.

“Bait,” Taeyong responds without missing a beat.

“... As in _actual_ bait, or Yuta?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a difference.”

“Hey, you’re the one who smells like dead fish!” Yuta retorts loudly, much to Johnny’s relief.

“ _Excuse you_ , I smell like daffodils on a dewey spring morning!”

Johnny holds his head in his hands, and thumps one foot against the deck. He doesn’t react when a gentle hand pats his shoulder sympathetically, having long ago become accustomed to Mark materializing out of thin air.

“Taeyong tried to strangle Yuta, and the flailing knocked a chum bucket into the water. I already hooked it back out, so you don’t have to worry.” Johnny looks up, directly into the face of an angel. He swears, sometimes when the light hits him just right, there’s a halo above Mark’s fluffy blonde hair.

One problem, though.

“So, I’m diving into chummed water?”

“Unless you want to wait an hour or two, in which case Belle will probably have come and gone before your pinkie toe even touches the ocean.”

Great.

“Incoming” the younger man warns, lifting the oxygen tanks to Johnny’s spine. The boy makes quick work of the equipment that the elder can’t shrug on by himself, fingers deftly clipping and tightening straps and tubes.

The kid’s a magic worker, fully capable of everything the team throws at him, and Johnny hates the thought that one day soon a better team might come along and scoop him up. Mark doesn’t leave him time to dwell on that, though, because he links up the air tube to the mask, and Johnny’s good to go.

He holds his booties and goggles in his hands while he traverses the stern of the ship, the familiar sound of the crane lowering his cage into the water buzzing in his ears. Yuta sits quietly near Taeyong, knowing that distracting him while he works the heavy machinery is not only a death wish, but a signed and dated death certificate.

With a gentle splash, the aluminum bars sink so that the cage sits just below the surface of the water. Out of the corner of his eyes, Johnny catches a glimpse of Taeil climbing down from the helm.

Wind whips wavy brown strands into his vision, and Johnny almost pulls the hood of his wetsuit over the locks. If only his hands weren’t full.

Mark relieves him of his booties and mask without being asked, offering a smile almost as bright as the sunscreen blob that covers the length of his nose.

“You’ve got sixty minutes of air in your tank, but bring the camera back up right after you get the pictures, Taeil can render them to make sure the scars are still visible while we keep her around,” Taeyong says, swivelling the crane so that the cage clanks gently against the port side.

“You got it, _Cap_ ,” Johnny grins, the material of the suit stretching with his cheeks.

Yuta cackles.

“Just get in the fucking cage,” Taeyong sighs, rubbing his temples with a bruised hand. Yuta catches it, and immediately the pair begin bickering over Taeyong’s lack of self-awareness. Johnny reverts to tuning it out.

One minute later his mask is on, his toes wiggling in his booties, and he’s adjusting the air valve to fill his lungs with the manufactured air. He braces his feet against the cage, arms holding the side of the boat when Mark tugs on his weight belt.

The kid points across the water, where a fin emerges and disappears beneath the white-capped waves.

Looks like someone showed up for breakfast.

He gives an ‘ok’ gesture, before stepping further under the water.

The first thing Johnny registers is the thin layer of water that seeps between his suit and the sea, and the second is the pull in his chest when the air bubbles clear from his vision. Dozens of times, if not hundreds, he’s sunk beneath the surface and into this world, but it never fails to take his breath away.  He’s floating, the current suspending time and the sound of anything other than the beating of his own heart. His feet touch the bottom of the cage, and he bounces as though gravity has no hold over this realm. Even now, with the limited visibility, he is awed by the difference between land and ocean. The sun shines through the blue, but even the strongest rays cannot penetrate the dark fortress beneath.

It’s endless, daunting and exciting all at once. There is so much about this place that is unknown, and Johnny wants to search every crevice and appreciate every grain of sand that lines the floor and drifts in the waves.

That thought grounds him, centers him in the present and he pulls the camera from where it is clipped to his belt. He’s here to make sure that the only things drifting in the waves are what’s _meant_ to be here, not the mess of pollution and trash that spans over a mile, just thirty minutes away.

They just need a little bit more evidence and the government will fund the clean up, or at least it’ll catch the attention of a bleeding-heart millionaire who has more money than he knows what to do with.

He shifts slightly, his gaze so focused that it looks like he’s trying to cut through the sediment, peer farther into the depths. His cage bumps against the hull of the ship, and he almost jumps out of his skin, yelling quietly.

“ _You okay down there_?” a voice scratches in his ear, the radio finally clicking on.

“Yeah, just testing out my singing voice. What do you guys want to listen to while we wait? A little bit of Twice? Maybe some f(x)?” he responds, still peeking through the murky water.

“ _If you can hit notes from Taeyeon’s “Fine”  down there, I’ll give you fifty bucks,_ ” Yuta chimes in.

Johnny’s laugh crackles in the ears of those aboard the ship, lounging against railing and in chairs. Mark kicks his legs from his seat next to Taeil, quiet giggles escaping him as he eyes the man’s computer screen. Soft blips on the radar show Belle is just off the port stern, slicing through the water a hundred feet away.

“She’s almost on ya, Boss,” Yuta says after Taeil relays the information.

“ _Got it._ ”

Fifty feet.

Yuta slings an arm around Taeyong’s shoulders, whistling a tune.

Ten feet.

Taeyong roughly shoves Yuta away, knocking the man into the previously retrieved chum-bucket. It sloshes over the side.

Damnit, Mark really shouldn’t have left it so nearby.

“ _What the fuck is that_?” Johnny’s voice cuts across the line, and Taeyong and Yuta visibly pale.

“It’s what’s left of the chum, we knocked it over up here.”

Red dances in the water, twisting and curling around Johnny’s form. Belle’s tracker picks up speed, but he doesn’t need the crew to tell him that. Through the murky water, he can see a dark, striped form whipping to and fro beneath his cage; he can see her jaw open and snap shut around a large portion of raw, pink carcass.

Not only is chumming water directly over a diver illegal, it’s incredibly dangerous. He can already see the signs of feeding frenzy showing in the twelve-foot-long tiger shark.

 _“_ Call me 2015 Yuta, cause I’m fucked,” he grunts, eyes never straying from the shape below him.

“ _Asshat!_ ”

“ _Do you want to call it?_ ” Taeil questions.

“No, weather is set to be hellish for the next few days and we won’t have this chance while she’s in the area. I’ll get the pictures and get out,” he decides, authority and confidence bleeding into his tone.

“ _I reserve the right to call it if it becomes too risky,_ ” Taeyong adds, “ _The good news is this new cage is registered to withstand up over 1,000 PSI, so it won’t budge. You’re as safe as you can be down there.”_

Johnny takes another deep breath when Belle darts, turning on a dime, towards the surface. Gracefully, with far greater speed than one would expect from such a large creature, she glides within inches of the cage, her strong tail creating a wake that causes Johnny to sway. Her dull, black eyes ignore him, no curiosity for the shining silver that entraps him, her whole being focused on the feed.

Long white scars scour her frame, embedding the memories of sharp plastic and chemical burns into her thick, dark skin. She parades a sickening gash in her dorsal fin, and a grocery bag is flutters in the gills that face Johnny, partially hanging out of one slit.

The shutter of the camera clicks, and to Johnny it sounds like the fractures in his heart cracking open a little bit more.

He has the pictures he needs, but he can’t just leave her like that.

“Guys, there’s trash in her gills,” he calls once he breaches the surface, handing over the camera, his voice muffled by the mask. “Give me a stick or something, I need to get it out or it’s going to fuck her up.”

Johnny ducks his head back under the water to check her position just in time to witness a huge, gaping maw chomping on the cage a mere foot from his torso.

“Fuck!” he shouts, sliding under the water and as far from her thrashing form as possible. The cage rattles and clunks with the impact, an unmistakable screech of teeth against metal ringing underwater.

Everyone aboard the boat jumps into action, Taeil climbing to the helm as Mark darts off to find the equipment. Taeyong readies himself at the crane, but there isn’t much he can do in the moment. Yuta leans over the side, trying to see what’s happening underneath the surface while Taeyong continues to yell into the radio.

Under the surface, the shark whips around to charge the cage again. Johnny braces himself against the back railing, but his hand slips on a fish head that had fallen inside the cage, unbeknownst to the crew.

 _“Johnny, get the fuck out of there!”_ Taeyong demands, voice strained.

“She’s just scared, Tae. The bag could kill her if it slips int- _”_ Johnny is cut off by the impact of 600kg of pure muscle into the metal bars. His spine cracks when it strikes the bars, yet his mind registers no pain.  

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, and he knows something has gone terribly wrong when a force shifts him to the left. The water tugs at his hefty frame, pulling him down when the left side of the cage falls open, screws and bolts gliding down like autumn leaves. It happens slow, in that nauseating, bone-jarring way.

Johnny feels the way he did when he watched a semi t-bone a fiat back in December. He feels the way he did when he was standing in the hospital waiting room after the hurricane that ripped through the east coast. He feels the way he did when he first caught the scent of the island of trash floating around in the Pacific ocean.

This can't be happening.

_What the fuck._

He can’t move. His brain and limbs freeze as the _unbreakable_ bars slip further down, down, down- and he’s left vulnerable to a pained, partially suffocated, hungry shark. The radio buzzes in his ear, but the words are indecipherable among the static.

Johnny is alone.

Black stripes on mottled grey skin fill his vision, and he struggles against the urge to flail away, knowing it would fuel Belle's aggression.

Far past the depths Johnny can see, a form glides in the interminable darkness, silken black scales catching the rare rays of sun that penetrate the deep. The figure is slight and agitated, and it drifts with the flow of the current as it observes the commotion above. It has watched and waited, a grim scowl and keen eyes adorning it’s face. As the panel sinks, thin tanned arms grip the bars and suspend them in the ocean. Black, flowing fins fall wave around the limbs like curtains blown by the wind, a crystalline ebony that ebbs to a bloody crimson. Slowly, webbed fingers release the panel, and it descends into the unknown.

Pain and fear radiate from the shark as she lunges in the water, and the entity is forced to make a choice; hide here, where it is safe, or save the giant oaf of a human who was foolish enough to invade the shark’s domain.

The man in the water screams, bubbles erupting from his mask when the shark charges again, and it rips through the creature’s indecision.

_Hunger, agony, confusion._

The being beneath the struggle can feel it, strong like the current, strong like the blood that pours from a fresh wound. It burns his senses, and his tail whips without a second thought. Terror emanates from the human, but it is a sharp kind of fear; the kind that can wash away when the sun dips below the horizon, the fear bathed in an ephemeral heat. There aren’t many things about humans that last, be it their anguish, or their kindness.

However, the shark, the beast of muscle and teeth and the murderer of this new creature’s kind, wields a different kind of agony. Her pain is born of suffering at the hands of those like the monster inside the cage; her fear is timeless.

Hurtling through the water in an attempt to reach the shark before she becomes aware of its presence, the dark form witnesses the human kick clumsily away from the cage. She slams into the space the person used to be. He dives deeper into the pitiless blue.

 _Idiot_.

It speeds faster towards the pair, its despise for humanity only conquered by its hatred for needless death.

Johnny struggles to breathe, his lungs seized by terror and shaky with adrenaline. He’s been forced away from what little refuge he had, and now he’s completely vulnerable to the whims of a starving animal. Fuck. Water mists inside his mask, obscures his vision, but he can’t fight the tears.

 _He doesn’t want to die_.

The shark is writhing, head stuck inside the bars as it chews on the water Johnny used to occupy. If he swims up, there’s no way for him to climb the slippery hull of the ship, and the shark jerks between him and the stern of the boat. He has no way out.

His only option is to try and sidestep Belle the next time she attacks, and pray her momentum takes her far enough away that he has a chance at reaching the stern.

He kicks his legs as gently as he can, his weight belt keeping him neutrally buoyant in the water, and sidles away from the ship.

Belle breaks free, but does not lunge towards Johnny as he expected. She darts away from the ship, down beneath the hull, and quickly out of Johnny’s sight. The terror weighing like a stone in his gut grows heavier, unable to gauge which direction she may strike from.

Taking the chance, he paddles strongly towards the stern. He’s not fast enough, and he knows it. He hates it- how much he feels like helpless _prey_.

 _He’s going to die_.

A sickening force grips one of his arms, and Johnny shouts, batting at the dark form as he searched desperately for eyes, gills, _anything_ sensitive that he can punch to regain his freedom.

He finds what he’s looking for- eyes pitched black, stone-cold and fathomless. Yet, the obsidian jewels gleam on the face of a human- defined contours and gentle, tanned skin a kind contrast to the knife-like glimmer in the stranger’s eyes. Inky locks flutter over strong brows, hair pressed flat against the man’s scalp as they surge through the water, nude torso pressed startlingly close to Johnny’s ribcage.

_Where did he come from?_

Relief washes over him, and frankly he doesn’t care for an answer.

 _He isn’t alone_.

There is something in the person’s gaze, something mythical and alluring, and Johnny loses himself for a moment.

Propelled through the water faster than he can comprehend,  Johnny’s body skims just under the surface, and he ducks his head against the pressure of their speed. He can see a jet-black hue oscillating in the sunlight behind them, and what appears to be a scarlet fluke.

That’s strange.

The darkly tinted shimmer almost looks like scales. Johnny follows the overlaying pattern all the way to the leathery black covering where the man’s pelvis should be. 

_What the hell_ -

The stranger twists his torso _just so_ as they round the boat, and Johnny witnesses a dorsal sail unfurl, crimson tipping a hue similar to the stanger's iris and Johnny’s breath catches.

They’re fucking _scales_.

Johnny feels dizzy for an entirely new reason.

Just as they reach the stern, Johnny’s hands thumping against the ladder, the creature releases its viselike hold on Johnny’s forearm, pushing him away. Johnny’s side collides gently with the hull, and his mind swims with the revelation and the shift in momentum.

Peculiar intelligence shimmers in the man’s- can Johnny call it that?- eyes, which flit between Johnny and the ladder, one hand pointing towards the surface and _holy fuck are those_ claws _?_

Beyond the swirl of ebony and crimson, Belle reemerges from the murk, her caudal fin lashing furiously. Instinctively, Johnny reaches around the humanesque torso, pressing the creature closer to the boat and leaving himself vulnerable to onrushing predator _._

Sharp pain wells in his wrist when enveloped in a crushing grip, the humanoid violently tugging the limb from where Johnny’s hand cages it against the sleek fiberglass. Realizing his mistake, but keeping his eyes trained on Belle, Johnny’s arm falls limp in the creature’s grasp. It couldn’t understand the action, that Johnny only means to protect it.

He offers no fight when it slips from beside him, a wild light in its eyes that has nothing to do with the blazing sun, and Johnny glimpses the remnants of a snarl on its face. Guilt filters into the already dizzying feelings, soon joined by fear when he realizes the trajectory of the seacrature.

It darts to the left, pelvic fins splaying beautifully to control its twirl under the water, and bodyslams the oncoming shark.

Johnny can’t climb out of the water, mind and soul riveted by the battle below him. As the forms collide, Johnny notices one clawed, webbed hand extend towards the trash-bag blocking Belle’s gills, their whirling forms thrashing as the shark snaps at the creature’s fluke. Johnny gasps, heart skipping multiple beats when Belle almost catches a human-like torso in her deadly jaws.

Hands grip Johnny’s shoulders, ripping him out of the water, and the sun is almost blinding. He can’t breathe, and his mind feels as if it’s made of cotton, but he knows one thing.

He must see if the creature is safe.

“No!” Johnny shouts, fighting against the strong hold on his arms as Yuta drags him aboard, crawling back towards the ladder.

“Johnny, stop! You’re safe now, it’s okay! Stop fighting me!” The Japanese man shouts, Taeyong finding traction around Johnny’s abdomen as Mark throws himself across Johnny’s kicking legs.

“There’s something down there!” Johnny tries, limbs weak and mind flooded with chemicals. He’s trembling, and tears still fill his eyes when Taeyong rips his mask off. Clammy hands gently clutch his face, pulling away the air valve and holding his head steady. Tender eyes peer up at him, glistening and tinted so dark he cannot tell the iris from the pupil, but nothing like the inky hue from a few moments ago.

“Johnny,” Taeyong tries, softly. He’d moved to Johnny’s front, both hands cradling his face while Mark and Yuta held him as carefully as possible, checking him over for injuries while they restrain him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Johnny tries to process that, dammit he does, but all he can think is scarlet and obsidian juxtaposed, smooth skin and diamond-like scales. His body buzzes, yet it is numb.

He doesn't know.

Fuck, he doesn’t know anything.

“I don’t see any blood, Taeyong,” Mark says, only to be caught by Yuta.

“His wrist,” the elder points, and all eyes turn to see four short rips in his wetsuit, tiny flecks of blood welling where his skin was grazed. Clawed hands shining like black satin flash through Johnny’s mental haze, and he shakes himself free of the men, their grip having slacked as his form stilled.

He hobbles to the railing, momentum throwing his torso over the side while he leverages himself with his thighs. Shouts ring behind him, but he catches himself just in time. His gaze ravages the waves, brows furrowed as his lower lip quivers.

The ocean, ever cruel and unforgiving, offers no answers. She ignores his plight, uncaring to the whims of a mere human. Waves dip and crest, and aside from the gentle rock of the mangled cage, there is no indicator of the recent struggle.

Johnny’s chest heaves, breath finally stuttering into his lungs, and he falls back against the deck, head in his hands. Yuta leaves Mark and Taeyong to watch him, presumably to grab his kit now that they know he’s not going to throw himself back over the side.

Still, the remaining pair watch him warily.

“Johnny, what happened down there?” Taeyong asks, “The radio cut out, we had no idea what was going on. We- _fuck_ \- we thought she’d-” he stops, and Mark grips his senior’s shoulder. Taeyong doesn’t shrug it off, but fear and despair resurface in his expression, tugging at what little of his emotions Johnny can feel beneath the haze of confusion.

Confusion whirls inside Johnny, a mess of emotions and stress that he can’t even begin to unpack, but gratitude fills his chest, rising above all else within.

 _He almost died_.

A shaky breath spills from his lungs.

 _He was saved_.

“I don’t know,” is all he can offer,“The cage is faulty, after the second hit one side just- just fell away like _that_ ,” Johnny snaps his fingers, “and she saw the opportunity. I had no chance after that.”

“How did you get to the back?” Mark asks timidly, lips pursed and brows furrowed when they both come to sit next to Johnny.

“I don’t know,” he repeats quietly, and remains silent.

“Lucky bastard,” Taeyong quips, wiping his face harshly. Johnny throws an arm around his shoulder instinctively. They stay like that for awhile. After a long moment relishing the fact that Johnny’s still alive, they hear Yuta returning with his medkit.

“How’d you get these?” The scarlet-haired man asks, and Johnny can’t take his eyes off of the color.

“Must’ve been from the cage. It all happened pretty fast,” the lie slips off his tongue before he can process it. Truth is, it hadn’t happened quickly. It wasn’t a rush of action that ended swiftly. Every second drew out, and Johnny could feel every single one of them tick by, knowing they might be his last.

Yuta nods, and offers to walk him below deck to exam the physical damage. Taeyong and Mark stay back to clean up, and collect their wits. Taeil remains at the helm, thanking the paramedics he’d asked to stand by.

“You know, they almost look like claw marks,” he muses, and Johnny’s blood freezes. He doesn’t understand the reaction- why would he want to lie to his team? They’ve been together through five years of shit, seen hell and heaven and just about everything in between.

But this? This is something Johnny can’t wrap his head around, let alone ask his crew to. So, he just laughs awkwardly, and endures the strange look Yuta responds with.

“C’mon, big guy, I’m ninety percent sure you have a concussion.”

That would explain a lot. So would oxygen deprivation. Johnny feels a little bit better at the thought.

“It’s really good your air tank was unharmed, though,” Yuta tries to brighten the atmosphere, inadvertently stabbing a knife into Johnny’s balloon.

Part of him wants to shut off for a while, wants to drown in this and hide for as long as his team will permit. Still, there is one certainty that he clings to, hands scraped and bloodied by his tight grip, desperate not to be swept away by the current within. He has to find that creature- the _merman?_ \- and make sure it survived. And, if possible, express his gratitude.

Somehow, when Johnny thinks of the obsidian gems placed so ornately on a humanesque face, he believes in the intelligence within it’s gaze. He believes that it will understand. At the very least, he hopes it can.

Below the ship, abyssal eyes glint as they observe the metal cage rise out of the water, shrieking chords echoing in the depths. A plastic bag is gripped in one webbed palm, the other clenches around a rip that runs along the length of his shoulder, white flesh bleeding a scarlet hue similar to that of his flicking tail.

He knows he should have left, sped off in the opposite direction of the shark, and find somewhere to tend his wound. Yet, he remains suspended underneath the ship, searching for any sign of the human he’d saved, half hoping he’ll reappear.

He can’t name a reason, nor can he comprehend the curiosity piqued by the man. Foolish and brazen as he may be, genuine hurt had panged in the human’s chest when he’d caught sight of the shark. Something else, too- remorse, perhaps?

The creature’s powerful fluke snaps, surging the merman from the safety of the depths. He waits, an arm’s length from the choppy border that conceals him from the realm above. Pale paint shines in the sun glaring and the merman has too squint when he peers past it’s glaze into a powdery blue.

His lungs begin to ache, but he remains just the same. He won’t breach this close to danger.

Minutes pass, muted tones reverberating into the sea. Four voices turn to three, and then to two. Still, the humans do not peer into the waves, nor does the merman catch sight of them. The final two voices fade, and he is left in silence.

After a time, the boat’s engine revs, and it slowly propels away from him in the direction of shore. The merman waits for a little longer, before breaching the surface for air.

As _the Vision_ slips towards the horizon, a body appears above deck, broad enough to seem ordinary even at the lengthening distance. He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the white splash of the rudder as it whips the water. Brunette tresses rest against his forehead, crusted and matted with salt, and the black covering he’d worn underwater hangs open down to his waist.

White material encircles the man’s left wrist, and something pangs in the sea creature's chest when he flexes his claws.

It stings and tugs uncomfortably- like a fishing line ran astray, hooked around one of his ribs and pulled. He recoils from the sensation.

The merman dips slightly, so that his shoulders and neck are cloaked by the reflective waves. He is certain the man hasn’t seen him, too preoccupied with whatever it is that plagues him. Conflicting signals boil off of the human’s skin, permeate so strongly in the atmosphere that the merman can feel his turmoil from afar.

Humming quietly, the merman tilts his head.

_What are you thinking about?_

He snorts at his own query.

It’s of no matter- he shouldn’t care. _They don’t._

Before he can change his mind, the merman dives beneath the waves and swims home- all the while ignoring the thrum in his chest that wants to follow, to see the human again.

 _But he did, didn’t he_?

The man’s thoughtless attempt to protect the merman had startled him, entrapped him in manner wholly distressing. Still, once the drive to escape ebbed, the wake of the man’s regret echoed within the sea creature.

He flexes his hand again, water dragging around the talons, washing away the skin trapped beneath.

There had been something about the way the  looked up close, without a trace of greed or anger the merman had grown so used to seeing on the faces of men. He was obviously afraid, rightly so, but there was an awe in the human’s gaze that caught him off guard. When his eyes wandered past the merman’s face- and even when his attention was rapt on the contour of the merman’s countenance, come to think of it- the terror had not intensified, nor had he jerked away.

The swell in the man’s chest was fascination, if blurred by the turmoil of the situation. Granted, the merman could have misread the energy emanating from the human.

Yet, he stayed, even after the merman left him. It speaks to a moral character that intrigues the sea creature. A _human_ \- proven to be a selfish race- forwent his own safety, and the merman wanted to know _why._

He weaves through the current with swiftness unparalleled. Pondering these thoughts, it becomes harder to ignore the curious whisper in his mind telling him to return.

Humans are dangerous, cruel creatures who care not for the effect they have on nature and other beings, and he’s better off ignoring the existence of mankind. Especially a man as foolish as he one he just saved.

A man who moves through the water strangely, clumsily, and retains an expression of curiosity and fascination even when overcome with terror.

The merman shakes his head, slowing to a halt, and looking behind him even though he knows the boat is far out of sight by now.

… Not that he couldn’t catch up.

If he could sigh without drowning himself, he would.

 _This is a mistake_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter down! comments? critiques? unintelligible screams into the void? i'll appreciate just about any feedback :D.
> 
> I already have the next three planned out, and two is already underway so it shouldn't be very long before I update this. I will do my best to keep to a regular(huh) schedule, especially since I'm on summer break. still, work and life is A Thing so please be patient if it takes up to two weeks <3\. after that, feel free to yell at me for procrastinating, haha.
> 
> most importantly, make sure to rest and eat well. staying hydrated is also very important. taking care of yourself physically is a necessity, but also be sure to praise yourself with any small decision that has a positive impact. brains remember negative occurrences more prominently than positive so that we can learn from those experiences, but if you take the time to make note of the good it will really help in the long run. even things like "that orange was tasty. it was a good decision to eat it." or, mayhaps, "this is a cool fic. it was a good idea to click on it."
> 
> haha, but for real, it's a good strategy. mental and physical health are very very important and even if you didn't like this I want to ask you guys to take care of yourselves, okie? <3 go well, and breathe some oxygen, bubs.


	2. alluring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny becomes a little too enamoured with a crab, and Ten's self-preservation instinct kicks in a tad too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: The Author is a Piece of Shit Who Never Updates.
> 
> Sorry, guys! But yeah. Here's a chapter where things happen. Kind of.

Few forces of nature are catastrophic enough to impact marine life- a hurricane can be easily avoided by treading opposite the sea’s pull, and a wildfire only affects them if it releases toxins into the atmosphere. So, it doesn’t take a great imaginative leap to realize how irritating the merman’s current situation is.

To be marooned close to shore by thrill-seeking surfers in a storm is insulting. It’s not even raining anymore, why are they still out there?

One black-tipped finger taps impatiently on silt, stirring up a tiny cloud underneath the merman’s ministrations. Annoyance ticks, a coil in his mind twisting tighter.

Why is he even here? Because a human acted strange? He’s probably reading too far into it; after all, it was a high stress situation. Just because the person wasn’t cruel doesn’t make him good, and just because he seemed thoughtful doesn’t make him intelligent.

Testaments to humanity’s idiotic nature hoot and holler far away, the balmy gale carrying their yowls to where the merman shelters in a tidepool. Rocky outcrops camouflage his scales, the ebony shimmer dulled by the overcast sky.

Turning his gaze from the people at sea, who pose just enough threat for the spines in his sail to rustle uneasily, he observes a formidable building near the shore. 

Assumedly, it’s the diver’s home.

Some time before, the humans aboard the boat had walked inside the powdery tan structure, gear in hand. At first, watching the area was interesting. Being so close to shore- literally lounging within ten feet of the beach- adds an element of danger, and the strangeness of all things human reinforces his intrigue.

Now, though? He’s ready to haul himself onshore and make a damn spectacle for the locals just to have something to do.

Groaning, he drops his head beneath the water, allowing the gentle swells to wash over his shoulders. Sand plumes from the impact of his body with the pool’s floor. A dull ache centers where his injured shoulder strikes the earth. His head settles on the silt with a dull thunk, and the boredom crawling under his skin is about to drive him crazy. Having been made for constant motion and struggle, for the harsh reality of survival and all the stress that comes with it, all this nothingness really isn’t doing it for him.

He could have been zipping through seaweed and exploring underwater labyrinths- adventuring like he intended-, but no, he just  _ had _ to follow the human.

Another shriek from far away, and Ten assesses his claws. Chunks of foam would become trapped beneath the knifelike nail, but the feeling of scraping them across the underside of the surfboards, friction tingling up his arm, would be so, so worth it. Afterwards, the boards would snap in two from the pressure of the violent waves.

The thought is tempting, almost worth the risk. Almost.

 The surfers won’t become danger; they have no reason to approach his alcove. All he can do is wait for a little longer, until high tide begins to recede and he is forced to flee. Even if he has no idea what exactly he’s waiting for.

With his spine tucked into the bed of granules, his caution and focus fade.

Really, he shouldn’t have taken his eyes off of Sanctuary, no matter how sick and tired he was of the inaction. What a rookie mistake.

While he’s sulking in the bottom of a murky pool, all the commotion he’d been waiting for begins to take place.

Johnny’s going stir crazy. Taeyong’s already locked himself in the office, pouring over the ever-present paperwork and filing for some license or the other, leaving Johnny all by his lonesome with the order to take the day off. 

He huffs. So much for ‘partners.’

That’s not even the most frustrating thing, Taeyong mothering them hasn’t been a surprise for five years. No, what’s psyching him out is their infamous intern. Everytime he tries to do something, sneak in a chore around the facility, Mark is there with his toothpaste-commercial grin and a dorky finger-gun.

 Every. Damn. Time.

Johnny hasn’t tried to scoop pelican poop in two months- there’s a reason they hired an intern-, so of course Mark wouldn’t anticipate that right?

Wrong.

A sly wink and cheesy grin accompany that finger-gun, and Johnny’s ready to pull out his own hair. 

The kid’s amazing, but sometimes it’s unsettling how on point he is. 

Not even the sea turtle habitat is safe. Right as Johnny turns his back and swings a leg over the barrier, a snorkeled Mark looms from the water like an underwhelming mythical beast, water cascading off his broad shoulders.

“Fucking shit, Mark!” Johnny barks when he sees the younger. He can’t discern the expression on the intern’s face through the mass of plastic, but if he had to guess it’s probably smug. 

“Taeyong said no working,” Mark shrugs, clasping his hands in front of his waist. A turtle promptly knocks him behind the knees, and he splashes into the shallows with a choked grunt.

Johnny deadpans at the floundering college student. For someone who won medals for his varsity swim team, Johnny would have thought he’d be more graceful.

Agile, perhaps, with a refined style as alluring as the sea itself. Johnny blinks. For a moment, under an overcast sky, Mark’s wet hair looks almost black. 

Shoulders tensing, he closes his eyes against the images threatening him. Two steps forward and he’s tugging Mark up by his underarm, easily deadlifting the weight.

“Thanks,” he gasps.

“Don’t mention it,” Johnny begins, “and take that snorkel off. Seriously, when did you find time to grab it? You blocked me from checking the dolphins literally less than two minutes ago.”

Mark shrugs again.

“... Did Taeyong tell you to babysit me?”

This time only one shoulder bobs up. “Since Yuta and Taeil left he figured someone should check in on you. Sitting still isn’t exactly your forte.”

“And you consider this- uh… whatever it is your doing, witchcraft probably, ‘checking in?’” Johnny shifts, sand crunching beneath his feet. Just behind Mark, the mischievous turtle peers up at the pair, mouth open in what resembles a grin.

Mark shrugs once more, still snorkel clad. 

Dude, learn another form of self-expression for the love of God.

Johnny sighs, the bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Just… let me do  _ something _ , okay? I know you guys are worried, but I can’t do this. If I don’t move forward, all I’m going to do is think about it. I can’t think about it anymore or I’ll lose my damn mind.” He thinks that garners some pity from the younger man, but he can’t be sure because of the goggles sill covering the majority of his features.

It isn’t a lie, though.

For hours he poured over the details of ‘ _ the incident _ ,’ as his merry crew have deemed it, trying to fit together the pieces, only to be left even more confused and frustrated. Like someone had switch half the puzzle pieces for legos, and told him it was a game of jenga. No hard evidence has ever been found to support the existence of mermen- as he’s chosen to call it, during the interum of figuring out what the fuck is happening-, and everything else just appears to be delusions or frauds.

Pain throbs in his temple just considering thinking about it.

 He’s been in this field for his whole life, and this is his first encounter with… with  _ that _ .

And what’s he supposed to do? Chase after it? Johnny isn’t arrogant enough to believe he can find the creature again. Life’s not just going to drop it in his lap, either. 

“I guess you can get some samples for Taeil and me. We need a few crabs from the tidepools- the tiny blue ones. You know the ecology thesis he’s working on? I think we’re really close to the solution,” Mark says, scratching the back of his head and squinting.

Inwardly, Johnny fistbumps the sky in victory. He can handle a few crabs easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

“Oh, while you’re down there, if you could pick up some algae samples that would be great, too. We need to see how the chemicals we injected are reacting to the natural habitat, and whether it’s affecting outer influences on the specimen as well as the crab’s biochem makeup.” 

As an animal behavior specialist, Johnny is confused.

“Uh, sure. Are the vials in the lab-”

Mark gestures for him to wait, his left hand digging through the pockets of his cargo shorts. Within seconds, he retrieves four vials from the canvas, and what looks like tupperware.

Johnny really should have seen it coming. “Go figure,” he mutters under his breath.

“Any other requests, kid?”

“Nah, man. I just need one from each pool and we’re golden.”

Johnny nods, and Mark wades out of the water, tossing up a peace sign as he clambers over the wall.

When Johnny looks down, he finds the vials in his own hand. He doesn’t remember Mark passing them over.

Yep. Definitely witchcraft.

Shaking his head, Johnny sets off. 

A surprisingly calm aura has settled over the beach, considering the recent violent storms. Though the dreary sky dampens the light, the breeze ferries warmth to the shore, rustling the soggy shrubbery and coaxing flecks of soil into the air. Oaken planks thump with every step, accompanied by an unpleasant squelch as he journeys past the dunes. 

Wet sand welcomes his bare feet like an old friend, his shoes left discarded by the wooden path. Not changing out of his swim trunks was probably for the better, seeing as how he’s about to be waist-deep in the shallow pockets of water.

A step and a half away from the first tidepool, and Johnny can already see a few crabs enjoying the aftermath of the summer squall. Not completely unheard of, but generally they keep beneath the water until night. 

He doesn’t think anything of it; stranger things have happened today.

As they crawl slowly away from the shallows, ascending mottled brown stones, Johnny creeps towards them, hands outstretched. 

“Here, lil’ guys, come to papa,” he whispers, biting back a curse when his foot crunches on wet sand particularly loudly. Uh oh.

The cast of crabs scatter, scurrying on tiny legs for the safety of the abnormally murky water. Johnny chalks it up to the weather stirring the silt.

Azure carapaces protect the comparatively delicate creatures, tiny pin-pricks stinging on Johnny’s palms as he scoops them gingerly into the tupperware. All the while, he mutters quiet apologies to the displaced crustaceans. 

One exceptionally small crab scuttles to where the pool brims, lapping at the shore. A stark contrast to the deep hue coating its shell, fuschia tape strikes a bold pattern across it’s midriff, decorated by a messy scrawl of ‘stage three’.

“Ooooh, you look important,” he murmurs, pursuing the creature. Remaining dutifully focused on the crab, he doesn’t take note of his surroundings. 

He doesn’t see the ripple pervading throughout the pool, how what few crabs have made it to safety remain above the sea, clinging to nooks in the rockface, the single black scale undulating on the surface.

 A bomb could explode next to him and all he would care about is the crustacean waddling away from his advances. He’s ankle deep in the water now, hand almost grasping the small animal’s carapace.

That is, until his foot lands on something firm, smooth, and distinctly  _ not _ sand. At first, he thinks it could be debris of some kind. 

And then it moves.

Almost similar to how a muscle flexes, the firm substance beneath his foot tenses and, before Johnny knows what’s happening, whips so hard it hurls him ass over tits. Past the water crashing over his head, and the tepidity enveloping his form, Johnny finally acknowledges the signs.

All of which direct him to the hauntingly familiar features he’s met with.

Outlined by muddy tones and inky strands, tanned skin conforms to high cheekbones and a beautifully sloped jaw, lips thinned into a grim line and cold eyes that seem so,  _ so _ human. 

Although the merman’s intent was to be close to the human, distance wise, so that he could observe his habits, being eye-to-eye with the person for the second time today was nowhere on his agenda. Yet, here he is, glaring at cheeks puffed with barely captured breath, and eyes as wide as the full moon. 

Dread has long since pitted in his gut, dull and aching, but the fear that has his blood thundering in his veins, pulsing so loud that he can’t hear the clash of the waves, far surmounts every other emotion.

_ Flee. _

 He can’t break away from the human’s gaze- the warm, earthy hues tinged with both shock and panic.

More than anything, he wants to run. But he can’t.

Between him and his only escape, a canal leading to the ocean, the human floats as if suspended by the same energy that infuses the merman’s limbs with lead.

 This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. Too much uncertainty still hobbles the merman; he knows nothing about this human, aside from what he derived from their brief encounter. This person could hurt him, kill him, and there would be nothing the merman could do.

_ He shouldn’t have come _ .

Finally, the man’s eyes release his own, dipping to where his torso melts into leathery skin, and the panic emanating from the human only strengthens. The merman pretends that the pangs in his own chest are the aftermath, and not hurt. All he can do is recoil from the man, let the cloudiness of the pool conceal his features and wait until his fate befalls him. 

_ Gods, help me. _

He’s trapped. 

His lower lip slips between his teeth, and he presses as close to the stony wall as his body permits, ignoring the throb of his shoulder. This is really, really bad.

Johnny, on the other hand, is ecstatic. Or insane. He hasn’t decided yet, but what he does know is he really needs to cool his shit. Fear and excitement unleash adrenaline through his system; his ever-steady hands tremble with the rush.

The initial shock has begun to wear off, but the stricken feeling clings to his ribs.

It’s hard to breathe. Thoughts that have plagued him all day- glittering saffron melding with the deepest black he’d ever seen, a lithe, tanned torso, and a face composed of features so ethereal Johnny would never have seen them outside of fantasy- manifest before his eyes.

 Slanted parallel to the sandy bottom, the creature’s claws, thin and sharp, dig into the floor as it’s shoulders flex. The dorsal sail that had splayed so beautifully before now lies flat against its spine, and it seems so small in the moment, despite the length of its formidable tail.

 His heart is in his throat, and possibly his eyes, but there’s a fucking mermaid a foot away from him so he gets a free pass.

No matter how much he wishes to remain, to drink in the impossible truth, the fire within his lungs demands attention. With a swift kick, he’s upright in the water, gasping for air.

One deep breath, then two.

A grin so wide it hurts his cheeks.

It followed him. It was intelligent enough to follow him all the way from their dive site, and conceal itself when it felt endangered. Granted, that could be instinct and reactions built over a millennia of evolution, but Johnny doesn’t think so.

This feels different, and Johnny always trusts his gut.

Phew. Here goes nothing.

“Hey there,” Johnny tries, his voice automatically deepening to the tone he uses when comforting his animals. “I don’t know if you can understand me, but I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

Though it may be a long shot, he wants to believe it can communicate. Johnny racks his brain for techniques to earn the creature’s trust, but comes up empty. Every strategy takes time, and a habitat controlled by humans.

The only thing controlled about this situation is that Johnny stands between the creature and the only outlet, effectively containing it.

… Hmm.

He just needs the creature to trust him. 

This is a bad idea.

Slowly and calmly, he shuffles backwards, towards the shore. With his front always directed towards the creature, he waits for a reaction as he nears the opposite side of the pool.

Then he feels it- the shift in the water as a large creature slips gingerly towards the canal out of the tidepools.

Dismay tightens his chest, drops his heart like a rock all the way down to his stomach. 

“Wait, please!” He doesn’t reach after the merman like he wants to, refuses to do anything that could be perceived as a threat.

_ Please, stay. _

“I won’t hurt you. I just- I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like you,” the words roll clumsily off his tongue, like his mouth and brain are stuffed with cotton, “I mean, obviously I’ve seen fish and things with scales and dorsal sails and flukes, but… You, you look like me. Kind of. Not specifically like me- I, I mean you look human. Half human at least. I don’t even know if you know what I’m saying but… But I don’t want you to leave.”

Johnny doesn’t take his eyes off the wake of movement beneath the surface, not even risking a blink. That’s how he notices when the creature stops moving.

When it listens.

Every atom in his body begs for freedom, for the certainty that comes with the open ocean, but the merman stills in spite of it. Something in his chest, a lingering sensation, dissolves his instinct, calms the tempest within enough to note the human’s emotions.

Desperation, curiosity, helplessness, wonder, and something else.

No matter how hard Ten searches for a connection, for insight on the new feeling, he can’t place it.

Curiosity has already gotten the best of him, there’s no use fighting it now.

Regret already weighs on his mind as he cautiously turns, and he senses the man stand a little straighter, his calf muscle flexing as though he has just barely stopped himself from stepping closer.

Less than a minute passes, and the human is still blabbering as if his words have an effect on the merman’s opinion. He tells himself they don’t.

_ Humans lie _ .

The merman’s eyebrows furrow, and he makes another stupid decision. Seems like he’s full of those today.

Water spills over his vision as he breaches, his bangs clinging to his skin as he peers up at the comparatively broad man. Mermen are generally lithe, built for speed and quick turns. This man is tall, muscled like an orca, and the merman would have every right to feel as intimidated as he does, if it weren’t for the toothy smile and baby-seal aura the man exudes.

“H-hi,” the man stutters out, followed by “holy shit you’re real.” He runs a hand through his hair, and the sea creature watches the motion like a hawk, shoulders tensing and dorsal sail stiffening. 

The man stands for a moment, as if stunned, before slowly lowering to the creature’s eye-level. Suddenly, with his knees drawn close to his chest, he doesn’t seem so daunting. His knuckles pale with the strength of his grip, along with the skin of his knees.“Holy shit,” he repeats softly.

The merman barely controls a snort, but the roll of his eyes betrays his comprehension.

Excitement flashes vividly both in the man’s expression and aura, a splash of emotion that feels warm in the merman’s own chest.“Wait, do you- oh my god, I’m going to sound crazy- do you know what I’m saying?” His voice gets progressively smaller towards the end. Hope rims his iris, overshadowed only slightly by doubt.

Caution battles fascination, and the merman considers just how much he should reveal. Cocking his head to the side, he responds.  _ Yes _ . 

A series of high, melodic notes answer his query, and Johnny wants to cry.

He knew it. He knew it the second he first met the creature’s gaze- saw a face so human glaring back at him.

Not only is there an unknown species with features similar to those of a creature only ever seen before in mythology, it has the intelligence to communicate. To communicate outside it’s own language, even.

Dizziness overwhelms him, and he falls forward, sloshing into the water. 

Spines that he hadn’t noticed before protrude from the sea creature’s dorsal sail, deathly sharp, its fins unfurling to appear larger than it is- the defensive gesture accompanied by a discontented hiss. Johnny erects his position slowly, settling his hands on his knees.

Okay. Don’t forget, not quite human.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologizes, feeling a little foolish. He knows better.

Deadpanning at the human, the creature offers no inkling as to its thoughts. Slowly but surely, the flourish of scale and claw return to their passive state. However, the regal sculpt of its posture makes him appear almost insulted; his cheek turned slightly away and nose upturned, allowing Johnny to observe his profile.

Johnny’s grin returns. “Oh, you weren’t afraid? My mistake. I almost forgot, you’re the one who saved my life from a  _ terrifying _ predator. How could I possibly threaten one so fearsome as yourself?” he asks, cocking his head in a similar manner. The merman hums. Though his glare remains as icy as ever, an upturn to its lips that let’s Johnny know he’s getting somewhere. A small blossom of happiness blooms within his ribs, fuzzy and warm as he studies his newfound… uh, to be determined.

Unfortunately, it does not last.

Johnny trains his eyes on the inflamed white flesh, and the flap of skin hanging open on the creature’s right shoulder.  _ Shit _ , it was hurt in the struggle.

“Are you alright?”

The merman doesn’t respond to that one, simply follows Johnny’s gaze. When realization dawns on its delicate features, it dips back under the surface so that only its eyes reside above the mirror-like surface.

Obviously a sensitive subject, Johnny refrains from probing further; he doesn’t want to push his luck, doesn’t want it to have a reason to leave.

A whole new world of knowledge has opened at his fingertips, he just has to not mess it up. So many thoughts race through his mind.

_ Where did you come from? What are you? Why did you save me?  _

Deep breath. First thing’s first.

“How much do you understand?”

Another trill, and the merman settles its tail against the bottom of the pool, seeming to get more comfortable- no longer poised for a speedy escape.

Johnny notices, and inwardly fistbumps the sky, excited to gain some ground.

 Strangely enough, the merman isn’t scared anymore. Wary, yes, but not afraid. In fact, it’s become rather difficult to keep his guard up around this human.  There’s too much wonder in him, too much child-like awe, for him to feel like a threat.

It’s all he can do not to flick his tail with glee.

“What do I call you? Do you have a name?”

The merman blinks, shuffling deeper into the pool. Though his fear for his own safety has all but vanished, ushered out by the bright presence of the human, the instinct to preserve his way of life is too strong to ignore.

Secrets breed safety.

After a few beats of silence, the human continues awkwardly, “Like, uh, my name is Johnny,” he tries for an introduction.

The creature nods, lips itching to test the name for himself, to see what it feels like rolling off his tongue.  _ Johnny _ .

He purses his lips. Perhaps he doesn’t have to respond in the human’s native tongue.

A low hum, followed by a sweet tenor. 

A moment of silence passes, and Johnny can already feel the pre-mistake embarrassment building in his chest. His imitation of the sound goes awry the instant he opens his mouth, but the shame burning the tips of his ears is worth it. Splashing beneath the surface, the merman’s fluke surges upwards; droplets glittering gray in the dim light, before dousing Johnny’s form.

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been that bad!” he exclaims, a smile growing on his face.

For the first time since Johnny caught sight of him, the merman’s gaze isn’t eclipsed by mistrust and austerity. His eyes warm, and soften. Laughs rip from Johnny’s lungs before he can stop them, but the noise doesn’t seem to bother the creature.

In fact, it sits upright once more, mimicking the breathy chuckle that Johnny emits.

Johnny’s laugh catches in his lungs, and he chokes on his own saliva, eyes bulging like a popeye goldfish.

Did it just mimic the social behavior of another species? 

Suddenly Johnny can’t figure out what he’s feeling; all of the mirth and triumph blink out of existence and he just feels… confused. There isn’t a name for whatever  _ this _ is.

This has to be the biggest discovery of his life, if he can call a mythological creature pulling his ass out of the fire a discovery, but he can’t process it. Beyond the fantasy of a child coming to life, the scientific impact of this is so far away from his mind that even though he reaches desperately for it, for some form of familiarity in this absurd situation, it remains at the tip of his fingers. 

He looks to the creature once more, surprised to see his own expression mirrored on its face. Lost. Johnny’s mind immediately vaults from his own muddled thoughts to fixing the rift that has torn between him and the creature. Once ringing with their laughter, the tidepools are now silent as death.

Science was never Johnny’s forte, but animal behavior and building relationships are his passion. He may not be able to comprehend whatever it is that’s happening, but he’s damn sure of one thing; this creature hasn’t been shown much kindness, at least not by humans, and that needs to change.

Sombering slightly, Johnny takes a few deep breaths to steady his erratic heartbeat. The merman catches his gaze again, eyes sharp like a blade and so deep that, for a second, Johnny thinks he’s drowning.

Something draws them closer, a silent understanding, and Johnny really hopes he knows what he’s doing.

The first step to a healthy relationship is a good, clear foundation. The soaked gauze strangling his wrist is a constant reminder of one mistake he’s already made.

“Hey, back when you saved me, with the shark and the boat- do you know what a shark and a boat are?” he pauses, continuing when he receives an affirming whistle, “I just want to say I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trap you against the boat, I just… I’m used to being the protector. On land it’s kind of my thing, so I didn’t even think about how it would look to you. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” 

Earnesty ringing true in every word, the merman can’t find a will of his own to deny the human, to leave him only with taunting silence or an insufficient whistle of understanding. The sheer power of the emotion in Johnny’s words evokes a similar reaction in him.

“ _ I know _ .”

…

 The person keeps still, not moving, and probably not breathing. A myriad of emotions contort beneath the man’s skin, firing off energy at random and for once the merman has no idea what the human is feeling. 

That makes him uneasy.

Gaze darting along the beach, and toward the incoming surfers, panic rises anew. His pelvic fins and sail splay, crimson a stark contrast against the dingy grey atmosphere, but he can’t force them back down with the adrenaline spiking in his system.

The human’s eyes have returned to their normal size, no longer resembling the weird saucers that humans throw on the beach, but it takes another minute for his breathing to stabilize. All the while, the merman backpedals away, slowly inching towards the canal. During the gap in conversation, he realizes that he’s spent far longer in the shallows than he anticipated, the tide has begun to recede, the current wrapping around his form like it’s begging him to follow.

He glances at the human again, noticing a new liquid pooling at the corner of his slacked jaw and thinking nothing of it. For now, the immediate area is safe. He can wait.

When the human still hasn’t quite gotten his shit together, the merman inspects him quizzically. Sure, he was expecting some surprise, but this is a bit much.

… Did he break him? 

He doesn’t remember humans being that frail, and surely with as much muscle mass as this one seems to have, he couldn’t be so delicate.

Huh.

“How did you learn English?” Johnny finally asks.

An inconsequential amount of relief rises, not enough to overshadow the edge of trepidation that cleaves through his nerves. He’s already revealed more than he ought.

“If I read signs telling me where humans are, I know where to avoid.” It may not be the answer to the question, but the half truth preserves his way of life, and that of his kind. A necessary evil.

The words scrape from his throat and, despite the pleasant timbre of his tone, it’s obvious he hasn’t spoken in a long time.

“But you didn’t avoid me.” Johnny frowns, and the merman follows suit. 

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

Perking up, the merman’s clavicle and chest ascend past the surface. Red trickles down from the unseemly wound on his shoulder. He cocks his head to the side. “I don’t know yet.”

It feels like a lie, even to him. 

The human has a certain quality, alluring and new, that reels him in, and he finds himself  _ wanting _ to speak.

“I followed you to find out.” 

Judging by the look on its face, the merman didn’t mean to admit that. They stare at each other in silence for a while after that.

As much as he wants to elaborate on the statement, Johnny can’t keep his stare from falling to the creature’s tattered flesh. He gestures to the ripped muscle and skin that pulses with fresh blood every few seconds, hoping that the creature’s trust is strong enough for his next course of action.

“How did you get that?” he asks gently, interlocking his own fingers in an attempt not to reach out. His protective nature gets the better of him more often than not, but the last thing he wants is to alarm the creature. 

“Shark.” Obsidian scales glint when it waves its hand.

“It looks pretty nasty, is it alright if I, uh, just make sure you’re okay?” Johnny requests, slowly edging closer. The merman doesn’t stiffen like he expects, but it does retreat from his outstretched hand, maintaining distance between them.

There’s more curiosity than fear when it regards Johnny’s advances, and a little happiness blooms in the man’s chest. He isn’t sure how he earned the faith the creature shows him, but he’s grateful.

Around a foot away, Johnny’s waist deep in the water again. This time, he’s more careful with his feet. He feels the merman’s eyes on him, but he focuses on the mangled skin and flesh.

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

An affirming nod, albeit hesitant.

The first thing Johnny notes is that, contrary to his expectation, the merman doesn’t feel cold to the touch. Rather, a steady warmth emanates from his form. Though its skin isn’t necessarily soft, it is smooth to the touch, unblemished and stretched taut over lean muscle. 

Peering past the gnarled rips in its skin, pale flesh peels away from the cuts, the pattern of the sinew startlingly similar to that of a cod, or ocean whitefish.

The inspection takes a few minutes, Johnny wincing when he presses certain places and fresh blood wells in the wound. His heart aches for the merman, who’s countenance falls stony and impassive. It offers no indication that it is in pain.

Still, Johnny apologizes every few seconds, whenever he disturbs especially angry parts of the wound.

Grimly, he eyes the strange white flesh that crumbles around the edges, pulls off in flakes around the already dead areas. From what few things Yuta has taught the crew, Johnny can tell this needs stitches, and some form of protection so that it can heal. Gingerly, he removes on hand from the creature’s bicep, sifting it through his hair as he releases his bated breath. 

“Listen- ah, I can’t say your name right- uhm, anyway-”

 The merman cuts him off. “Ten.”

“What?” Johnny looks up, catches the merman watching him with a contemplative, almost nervous quality. He’d never be able to discern the emotion just from looking at its stoic expression, but he can see it there, hiding in its iris. 

“You can call me Ten.” 

Johnny bites back the obligatory, ‘it’s nice to meet you,’ hoping they can become fully acquainted later, once its wound has been taken care of.

“Ten, this doesn’t look so good. Would you let me stitch it closed so that it can heal?” his hands feel shaky, but Johnny doesn’t release his ginger hold on the creatures bicep. 

“It will heal,” Ten reassures him, uneasy, seeming smaller than he was a moment ago. Almost secretive, even.

“Maybe, but it will take a long time. It could also get infected, or slow you down when you’re out there. It’s dangerous,” Johnny doesn’t want to leave it. The thought of Ten out in the ocean, susceptible to attack and a bloody beacon for nearby predators terrifies him.

Though Ten has proven to be quite the formidable opponent, Johnny is all too aware of what happens to prey who have been weakened. The thought of that fate befalling Ten… He can’t stand it.

Peering past Johnny, Ten takes a moment to evaluate their surroundings once more. With the tide leaving, and the surfers’ shouts becoming less enthusiastic, he knows he can’t stay. However, he can’t deny that he wants to see the human again, and if it’s under the premise of receiving unnecessary medical attention, so be it.

“Not here.”

Johnny’s face brightens a little, a new shimmer in his honeyed brown iris, and Ten does a double take.

… Uhm.

“Okay, where? If it’s too close to shore I understand, but I need a medkit so it needs to be accessible by boat.” His face eases from his intense concern, seemingly appeased by the compromise.

The shouts of the surfers become more prominent, and Ten racks his brain for safe alcoves. More importantly, one he doesn’t mind losing in case things go sideways.

Johnny can practically see the gears turning in his mind.

“Offshore there is an island, maybe a mile from here. Stop just before the sandbank and I’ll find you,” he exhales, both apprehensive and elated. Johnny nods, opening his mouth to fire back another question.

He doesn’t get the chance.

“Hey! Bro, are you good? You’ve been out here for ages, man, how hard is it to catch a crab?” Mark yells from somewhere up the coast, and Johnny can see him  jogging towards the pair.

When he turns back, ready to usher Ten away, he is met with an empty pool. The glassy surface feels stark, lifeless, without him. Past the maze of rocks and shallows, Johnny scans the sea, knowing he won’t find what he’s searching for. But, somewhere out there, he can’t help but think Ten stops, if only for a moment, to look back. 

He smiles, looking like an idiot, nipple-deep in the water and with, according to Mark, nothing to show for his afternoon.

_ Pfft _ .

If only he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, here's a big fat thank you to everyone who reads this! I really appreciate comments and feedback, as it's one of my biggest motivators for posting, so if you guys feel comfortable please tell me what you think. If you like it, there's also a lovely 'kudos' button that is to the bottom right, if you feel so inclined. ;)   
> Anyways, regardless of whether or not you enjoyed this chapter, I really wish you the best of luck in life, and hope you have a lovely day. Please drink lots of fluids, water being a marvelous option for your bodily health, and remember to take care of yourselves. Food is also generally helpful in staving off death, so I recommend a bit of that too, haha.  
> Stay healthy, kiddos. <3


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